


come away, o human child

by immaplane



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Fae & Fairies, Fae Greg Lestrade, Human Mycroft Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 06:19:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19056952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immaplane/pseuds/immaplane
Summary: Come away, O human child!To the waters and the wildWith a faery, hand in hand,For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.





	come away, o human child

**Author's Note:**

> W. B. Yeats, "The Stolen Child"

_Come away, O human child!_  
_To the waters and the wild_  
_With a faery, hand in hand,_  
_For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand._

 

Mycroft is six when he first sees them. Him. A man with shining silver hair, oh so obviously not human. Mycroft knows there's no forest on the family estate and yet, there one was. Trees so tall their golden leaves brush the clouds; the wind rustles between the branches and carries the sounds of a babbling brook. And right in front of the tree line, a man. He smiles and takes Mycroft by the hand, and the boy can’t do anything but follow him. They walk for what feels like hours, yet he never tires nor sees the sun move in the sky. Finally, they arrive at a feast, and the man leads him to the head of the table and sits down at his right-hand side. Mycroft had listened well to his grandmother’s tales. Not a crumble of food nor a drop of water passes his lips. He gives no one his name. But he sits, and he listens, and he watches. The feast could have lasted hours or it could have lasted years but eventually the man takes him by the hand again and leads him out of the forest. _Until we meet again, little prince._

Sherlock is five and Mycroft is twelve when he tells his little brother the rules. He whispers in his ear late at night under the covers. Never eat their food. Never drink their water. Do not tell them you name. Do not accept their gifts. Never thank them. Never insult them. Do not step into a fairy ring. Because, as he explains to his eager audience, they follow their own rules, and not all of them mean well. Always be on your guard when dealing with the Fae.

Sherlock is seven and Mycroft is fourteen when he makes a bargain with the silver haired man. Sherlock is dying of a fever and no human can help him. He roams the estate for hours until finally, he finds the forest. Once again, the man takes him by the hand and leads him deep into the trees. Mycroft explains his desire and waits patiently, he will pay their price, anything for his little brother. The response, when it comes, is a surprise and yet not. They want him, a life for a life. But not yet. _Your life is not yet full, little prince, you ask us to save his future, we want yours. We will find you once you have lived it._

Sherlock is nineteen and Mycroft is twenty-six when he decides Faeries aren’t real. His brother has overdosed twice already, has been dead for thirty seconds before coming back. Surely, surely if the bargain was real they would have prevented it. Mycroft still must fulfil his part of it, after all. No, he doesn’t have time to go around believing in supernatural beings. He has his brother and his new job to focus on. It was all just a childhood fancy.

Sherlock is twenty-five and Mycroft is thirty-two when he meets the silver haired man again. He introduces himself as Greg, and a whisper in the back of Mycroft’s head goes _don’t give him your name_ , but he speaks the words anyway. The moment his name passes the other man’s lips Mycroft feels it over his entire body. _Oh_.

Mycroft is thirty-five when he stands in front of the trees with the silver haired man. They speak each other’s name and they perform the ancient rituals.  This time Mycroft takes the other’s hand and leads him into the forest. He is ready to join the feast.

 

_For he comes, the human child,_  
_To the waters and the wild_  
_With a faery, hand in hand,_  
_From a world more full of weeping than he can understand._

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [tumblr](https://immaplane.tumblr.com/) for random shenanigans


End file.
